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POETRY AND CRITICISM, 



By OUTIS. 



Ant insanit homo, aut versus facit. 

Horace. 



Oiik apa tt]v KecpaArjv e?X e » toiclvto. ypd<poov; 

Anthol, 



PRIVATELY PRINTED FOB THE AUTHOR, 

\',\ BRADBURY AND EVANS, WHITEFRIARS. 
L850. 



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205449 
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A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA. 

1840. 

♦ 

' Mais vous venez, helas ! quand mon heure est finie, 
Vouz avez mis vingt ans pour venir jusqu' a moi, 
Vous, qu'en vingt jours, au plus, mon rapide g^nie 
Entrainait aux deux bouts de 1' Europe en ernoi ! " 



Let me rest, let me rest on my lone granite pillow, 
Too late is this pledge how ye love or adore ; 

Your frigates too late, o'er the dark-rolling billow, 
Seek the dust of the warrior, whose banner they bore ! 



In the conflict of death, when the Lion all gory 
Bore me down/twasthe season your Emperor to save; 



O A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA. 

9 Twas yet time, ere the slow-setting sun of my glory 
For ever had sunk in this far southern wave ! 

Some spark of your fires e'en my ashes had kindled, 
Less late had ye waked to your tardy decree ; 

Those ashes might yet have been worthily mingled 
With the tune-honour' d dust in your old St. Denis. 

But no ! — through the vaults of that hoar mausoleum, 
For the soldier of fortune no requiems ring ; 

His ashes profaning the solemn Te Deuni, 

As it peaPd for the reign of some Bourbonist king ! 

A loftier pile is this wave-begirt mountain, 

Than that ye intend me — your Hospital's Dome ; * 

Twice ten years, by the side of my favourite fountain, 
Has the grass grown and withered, that covers my 
tomb. 

Away, then, away ! — Let your vessels, returning, 
Leave me fix'd as the rocks on this desolate shore ; 

Lea [nvsBdes. 



A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA. 7 

Here no more the vain fire of ambition is burning — 
Oh ! grant to these bones the repose they implore ! * 

* Napoleon's Confessor, an amiable old Italian priest, who was fellow 
passenger with O'jrts, homeward bound in 1821, repeated some Latin verses, 
which he had indited on St. Helena, beginning thus : — 

iEquoris in medio, prseruptis ambita saxis, 

Insula St. Helena? nomine parva jacet ; 
Truncato similis couo, convallibus imis 

Secta, et dmnosis sentibus hirta riget, &c. 




THE EATE OF THE MAMELUKES. 

" To horse ! — through the desert our trumpets are 

blowing, 
The swords of our squadrons in sun-light are glowing ; 
The slaves of Stamboul their proud Sultan may brook, 
But prouder 's the soul of the bold Mameluke ! 



" The sun of the zenith hath lent us his lire, 
Given warmth to our friendship — but heat to our ire ; 
And deep is the stain on each good scimitar, 
When we burst on the foe like a cloud from alar! 



THE FATE OF THE MAMELUKES. V 

" Away to the battle ! — our hosts who would tell, 
Might number the sands of the desert as well ; 
Like the floods of the Nile when they break o'er its bed, 
Resistless we pour where our squadrons are led. 

u The dogs of the desert impatiently call 
For the cowards that lurk in the rear of yon wall, 
And pale on liis neighbour each dastard shall look, 
"When he hears the war-cry of the wild Mameluke ! " 

Alas ! for the brave ! — The fell Pacha has spoken, 
And the slave of the Sultan his plighted word broken ; 
And the wile of th' assassin unworthily slain 
The heroes, whom valour encountered in vain. 

There 's a gloom over all, that infests not the hour, 
When the Moslem is red with the blood of the Giaour ; 
For 'twas not to such deeds that the Prophet hath given 
The guerdons of earth, or the glories of heaven ! 




4^j i J) 



&~s m 



ANNINGAIT AND AJUT * 

O'er Greenland's hills, and billow-beaten shores, 
The flood of day returning summer pours ; 
Beams from the sea's bright verge the stranger Sun, 
Round the blue heaven his spiral course to run j 
Still as more high his glorious disk he rears, 
Through the deep gloom each hoary cliff appears, 
Till, from the mountain's steep and snow-clad height, 
In one vast blaze streams back the vivid light ! 
Bursts from its wintry chains the ice-bound hill, 
Through sudden verdure creeps the loosen'd rill ; 

• s.c Johnson's Rambler. Nos. 186. 187. 



ANWINGAIT AND AJDT. 11 

Old Ocean's self next feels the potent ray, 
And sees his glassy islands melt away ; — 
No more Ins surges bellow round the shore, 
No more his ice-bergs crash, his tempests roar ; 
Bleak night and frost suspend their iron reign, 
And nature beams with radiant smiles again. 

In yon deep bay, where, stain' d with lichen o'er, 
The rugged cliff impends the sloping shore ; 
Where glistening shells bespread the golden sand, 
And the green wave comes softly to the land — 
Her dark locks falling o'er her shoulders fair, 
What white-robed goddess seems to linger there ? — 
Yet the fast sorrows of that streaming eye, 
And that pale visage, mark mortality, 
Unless the bitterest griefs to mortals given 
Can e'er molest th' inhabitants of heaven. 
On fallen fragment of a rock reclined, 
Her mantle floating in th' inconstant wind, 
\\ i 1 1 1 anxious look she marks, and tearful gaze, 
Where round yon cape the restless billow plays — 



12 ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 

Nor gazes long — to her expectant view 
Springs through the surf that rower's swift canoe ; 
And now he turns the rocky point — and now 
The sea-foam dashes o'er his heaving prow ; 
One look he gives — 'tis she ! — with eager hand 
He plies his oar — he leaps upon the sand ! 

" 'Tis come at last, and I must hence away — 
(The fav'ring breezes chide e'en tins delay) — 
Yes, Ajut, yes ! — and I must leave awhile 
Home's warm retreat, and love's entrancing smile ; 
How oft yon sun shall circle round the sky 
Ere I again these well-known cliffs descry, 
Or troops of joyous friends, with nuptial state, 
And festal cheer, to grace our union wait ! 
Fast as the leaves, of short-lived summer born, 
Fly youthful days, and never more return ; 
Frail as the snow beneath the solvent ray, 
Strength melts apace, and beauty fades away ; 
And then a few more summer suns — a few 
More winter nights, and life is vanish'd too ! 



ANNINGAIT AND A JUT. 13 

Ere yet on thee I fondly gazed, or e'er 
Those accents thrill'' d npon my listening ear — 
Ere yet thou taught' st this youthful heart to burn, 
Oh, with what joy I hail'd the sun's return ! 
Who then so prompt as I, with skilful care, 
To build the boat, or bearded shafts prepare ; 
Through the rough waves to chase the flying seal, 
Or pierce the tusky walrus with my steel, 
Or mount the dying whale's yet heaving side, 
While, warm with life, he lash'd the bloody tide ? — 
But whither wend I ? — still such strife shall charm, 
And thou shalt nerve afresh this practised arm ; 
Again in savage blood my spear I '11 steep, 
And urge in fight the monsters of the deep ; 
Eor Ajut's love exchange the thirst of fame, 
The motive different, but the deeds the same. 
Then, when long months have heap'd my winter 

store, 
Swift as the gale I'll seek this happy shore j 
To Ajut's arms bound o'er the wat'ry way, 
And at her feet the votive treasures lay \" 



1-t ANNINGAIT AND A JUT. 

" Ah, Anningait ! — and is it thus you quell 
The fearful griefs that in this bosom dwell ? — 
Of dangers talk, and touch the very theme 
That blasts each hope, and poisons every dream ? — 
How oft I 've seen the spirit of the storm 
Whelm thy frail boat, and wreck thy mangled form ; 
Or lurking demons crouch beneath the wave, 
To snatch thee, breathless, to their ocean cave ! 
I 've heard expire, in one soul-rending groan, 
That voice, that Love had taught his tenderest tone, 
And curst my sex, and curst th' inhuman care, 
That still forbade with thee each fate to share ! 
Far to the south ("'tis fabled) regions lie, 
Where sun and moon alternate rule the sky ; 
Where, round the year, the happy natives taste 
The bliss of home, nor roam the stormy waste — 
Oh, we had 'scaped this moment's chill despair, 
Had Heaven in mercy lix'd our portion there!" 

"Sconi all their marvels, love — nor envy we 
Gifts, which (if true) we ne'er were doom'd to sec ; 



ANNINGATC AND A.JUT. 15 

Let southern climes their fruits or flowers display, 
That bloom or ripen in the blaze of day ; 
Our's be the home beneath the mountain's breast, 
With plenty crown' d — with love and Ajut blest. 
There, when the sun's red orb shall southward roll, 
And night returns, and winter shrouds the pole ; 
There, when by tempests torn, or demons riven, 
Down from its height the avalanche is driven ; 
When one pale desert meets the cheerless eye, 
And one wide storm rebellows tlu'ough the sky — 
With softest moss those tender hands shall spread, 
And with the warmest furs bedeck, our bed ; 
There dazzling lamps, with never-fading ray, 
Shall light our home, and rival summer's day ; 
There shall the heaps, that bled beneath my spear, 
Enrich the board which love and friendship cheer: 
By thee adorn'd with sweetest notes, the while, 
Our fleeting night tradition's -onus beguile — 
Such joys ne'er bless, such genial home ne'er 

warms, 
IV enervate wretch that shrinks before OUT storms : 



16 



ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 



Unknown to him the sweetly varied good 
That charms our life with blest vicissitude ! 
He never tastes the winter's listless ease, 
Round the long year his labours never cease ; 
And though diurnal suns his skies adorn, 
With lovelier radiance beams our Boreal morn ! 
— But lo, yon crowded barks my lingering chide — 
One last, long kiss, — adieu, my love, my bride V 

Thou, who hast felt the parting pang, canst 
teU 
The all that 's centered in that last farewell ; 
The mingled tide of hope and fear, the throng 
Of words, that die upon the failing tongue j 
Th' unutter'd grief, that, finding language weak, 
But melts the eye, or changes on the cheek — 
Yes, thou hast felt affliction's sternest power, 
Thou know'st the sorrows of the parting hour ! 



Home Ajut hies, to weep her Lonesome fate. 
Home wends the maid, deserted, desolate ! 



ANNINGAIT AND AJUT. 17 

Nought heeded she each aid that love could lend, 
The tender parent, or the careful friend ; 
Still o'er her sleep, in dreams prophetic, stole 
Each waking fear that racked her boding soul ; 
"Where should she seek a respite — whence supply 
The balm to soothe her mental agony ? 

Deep in the hollows of a rocky cave, 
Whose moss-grown front the dripping streamlets lave, 
And dark-green pines more solemn shadows lend, 
As, half uprooted, o'er the cliff they bend, 
There dwelt a Seer, whose fame had spread around, 
For prophecy and prescient skill renown' d ; 
Him Ajut sought, nor seeking did she fail 
In gifts, which help the future to unveil. 
Far in the cavern's twilight shades she view'd 
That aged man, in calm and thoughtful mood ; 
With sightless orbs, and beard of snowy dye, 
The blind Tiresias of that northern sky ! 
Awe-struck she stood, with parted lips and pale, 
Mysterious fears her beating heart assail ; 



18 ANNINGAIT AND A.JUT. 

Tlie sage, with gentle voice and mien, desires 
To know who seeks him, or his aid requires ? — 
Thus reassured, the maiden dared to brave 
The sleeping echoes of that fearful cave ; 
In accents brief and broken she exprest 
The doubtful dread that agitates her breast, 
And sought his skill to lighten or remove 
The gloomy mists which part her from her love. 

" Versed as I am to pierce with mental eye 
The close-drawn curtains of futurity, 
Yet, Ajut, here less certain lights are given, 
To penetrate the will of sovereign Heaven. — 
Dire are the perils of the treacherous deep, 
Pierce the loud storms which o'er its surface sweep ; 
Yet oh, while hopes on fortune still attend, 
Why should superfluous fears thy bosom rend ? — 
Bethink thee of the thousand dangers past, 
Each triumph more transcendant than the last ; 
Bethink thee of the guardian gods that wait 
From Lurking Pates to shield tin Anningait: 



AXXIXGAIT AND AJUT. 19 

Let then no dread, no needless dread remain — 
Hope, maiden, hope — expect his bark again ! " 

Weeks pass, then months — the sun with sinking sweep 
Circles the heaven — then dips beneath the deep ; 
And surest tokens in that darkening sky 
Proclaim to all the night of winter nigh. 
Home, one by one, the shattered barks repair, 
Another comes — nor Anningait is there ! 
Who now shall calm poor Ajut's just alarm, 
What Seer persuade her lover 's safe from harm ? 

At length is seen, slow moving to the shore, 
The bark which him and Iris companions bore ; 
" For this, our laden craft, he scorn' d to stay ; 
Impetuous Anningait brook' d no delay — 
Long since he quitted us, and homeward flew, 
Swift as the sea-bird, in his own canoe." 

The juggling prophet's riddle is reveal'd — 
The hapless lover's fate too surely seal'd ; 






20 ANNINGAIT AND A JUT. 

Successive floods have cast upon the strand 
The very skiff in which he sought the land ; 
And he, so late in youth and manhood's pride,, 
Must float a corse upon the heaving tide ! 

One night she listened until all was still, 
Then sought the haven underneath the hill ; 
A skiff she entered — paddled from the shore, 
Left country, kindred, friends, for evermore ! 
Yain is the search her frighted parents keep, 
Sad the lone hours through, which they wake and weep ; 
Faint and more faint hope's last illusions burn, 
For Ajut 's parted — never to return ! 




PROLOGUE EOR A COLONIAL THEATRE, 



WITH THE COMEDY OF THE RIVALS. 



In merry England once — in youth's bright day, 
What soul so dull, but own'd the Drama's sway ; 
But caught a spark from Ealstaff's jovial cheer, 
Or wept for pity at the griefs of Lear ; 
And as each note of mirth or pathos fell, 
"With breast responsive echoed back the spell ! 



E'en here, methinks, self-exiled as we pine 
In barb'rous climes, too near the burning Line,' 



Sui) curru nimium propinciui Soils. 



22 PROLOGUE FOR A COLONIAL THEATRE. 

As rolls each joyless year, and bears away 
Some frail memorial of life's younger day ; 
As fades each cherished trace, to memory dear, 
Of all that charmed us in youth'' s glad career, 
And, with each fading trace, grows rigid too 
The feeling sense, that might that trace renew — 
The Drama's power may vindicate its reign, 
And wake our torpid souls to feel again ! 

This night, through comic scenes our actors wing 
Their flight experimental ; promising, 
Should your applause the infant essay crown, 
To loftier aims they '11 rise, when bolder grown ; 
Though, let the theme be sad or merry, still 
Rivals they all must be — for your good will ! 

Then — should the laughing Muse successful yield 
To her grave sister this adventurous field, 
Within these walls may yet, some day, be beard 
The magic sorrows of our mighty Bard — 



PROLOGUE FOR A COLONIAL THEATRE. 



23 



Here may the fiend Othello's bosom rend ; 

Here patriot Brutus immolate his friend ; 

In midnight blood Macbeth his dagger steep, 

Wild Hamlet rave, or hapless Juliet weep ! 

Oh, radiate thus our Drama's sacred light 

On realms, beyond the Eoman eagle's flight ; 

Spread far and wide the humanising strain, 

And add one wreath to Shakspeare's hallow' d fane ! 





GBEECE IN 1827 



Still, by barbaric rage assail' d in vain, 
Hears its fair front Athena's marble fane ; 
Still on its rock, with pediment sublime, 
That solid structure blunts the scythe of Time ; 
Though the robb'd frieze, of sculptured metope bare. 
Proclaims the hand of rapine has been there ; 
Though glares the marble in its stainless snow. 
Where shattered triglyphs mark the recenl blow, 



GREECE IN 1827. 25 

And many a glittering fragment,, strew' d around, 
"With Phidian relics heaps the cumbered ground ! 

How towers supreme that glorious ruin still, 
The queen of temples on her classic liill! 
All- wasting Time, though twice-ten ages past, 
Reserved such prey, his brightest and his last, 
That freedom's light, return' d, again might pour 
A sacred lustre on its latest hour ! 
See genius haunt these shores, deserted long, 
And Byron perish for the land of Song ; 
See Navarino crush the Moslem's pride, 
And fate decree — what policy denied ! 
A T o more shall Hellas weep her children's fall, 
Her hearths blood-dyed, her daughters dragg'd in 

thrall ; 
Messene's heights the signal fires* display, 
Till ocean reddens with the kindling ray ; 
Swift through Arcadia's vales the tidings fly — 
With shouts the cliff's of Argolis reply ; 



■ in the "Agamemnon" of ASachyraa, Information of the rapture of Troy 
la oonveyed In a similar way to Argoa; 268 2f 



26 GREECE IN 1827. 

Last o'er iEgina's gulf the beacons gleam, 
And glad Piraeus hails the welcome beam ! 



Shade of Themistocles,* an hour like tins 
Ne'er shone on Greece since thy own Salamis ; 
What though the strangers' hands have burst her chain. 
Though Saxons, — Scythians, — Gauls, her freedom 

gain? 
The struggle her's, albeit a foreign blow, 
Of giant might, hath laid her tyrants low. 
Her's was the tortured groan, the helpless sigh, 
To suffer her's — to strike, to bleed, to die ! 
Schooled by her glorious sires, through many an age, 
The world restores th' entrusted heritage ! 
Hark, through her olive-groves her children sing, 
'Midst peopled vales resounding Pseans ring : 
Though slow the march of mind, and late the day 
That wears oppression's moral taint away, 



* The Tomb of Themistocles, or at least the mound on which it stood, is 
visible at present in the Vinous, opposite to. and in view of, the Isle of 
Salamis, the scene of that hero's triumph. 



GREECE IX 1827. 27 

Yet come it must, the renovating hour, 
When freedom shall assert her wonted power ! 
Cities shall rise — reviving arts return 
To where Ilissus mourns his wasted urn — 
Hellenic genius claim its ancient reign, 
And Paros teem with marble births ac:ain ! 




TO A LADY WITH A WATCH. 

Oft as the silent-moving hands 
Around the figured dial wheel, 

Amid the joys and cares of life, 

Oh ! may one thought thy brother steal. 



And when, beneath thy pillow' d head, 
This toy shall keep its miduight measure, 

Think that one heart as constant beats, 
To shield from harm its chiefest treasure. 



TO A LADY WITH A WATCH. 29 

As long, dear girl, as Heaven ordains 

Thy days and mine together flow. 
Tins hand shall never cease to twine 

A wreath of joy to deck thy brow. 

And when the Fates their threads shall spin 
To that sad point where we must sever, 

Their doom, perhaps, may make me leave 
My sister — bnt forget her never ! 




20<£OKAEOT2 TINA. 



KPEHN. 
ere St?, ere t))v vevovaav is ttcSov adpu, 

(p-ps, 3) naTapvei pr) SedpaKtvai TctSe ; 

ANTirONH. 
Kai (pil/bil Spaaai kovk dirapvovjxai rb ^urj. 

KPEHN. 

ah fj.hi/ ko/u.l£uis h.v aeavrbu ?; deKets 

e£a> Qapeias airias iAevdepov ' 




FRAGMENT PROM SOPHOCLES * 

CREON. 

Say thou, whose sullen gaze on earth is bent, 
Didst thou the deed ? 

ANTIGONE. 

I did — and scorn disguise ! 



CREON. 

{To Ike Watch.) Begone! Thou'rt lightened of a 
load of guilt. 

■ Antigone, the sister of Polynicea, performs by stealth the Bacred rites 
over the body of her brother (forbidden by proclamation), and, being detected 
in the fact, the above dialogue ensues between her and Creon, 



32 20*0KAE0T2 TINA. 

(rv 8' ei7re fxoi /jlt) fxriKos, dAAa crvuTofxa, 
17877s ra KripvxdtvTa PV Trpdaaeu/ TaSe ; 

ANTirONH. 

fj. ri 5' ovk 6/tteA/Voi/ ; ifxcpapr) yap 7)1/. 

KPEHN. 

Kal Zt\t iroXjxas rovers' vTrzpfia.il/zij/ v6fxovs 

ANTirONH. 

ov yap ri ,11.0* Zeus 7)1/ Kripv^as rdSe 

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KT)pvyixaff &gt dypairra KaacpaXy) Oecou 
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£rj Tavra, /couSeis olSev e'| orov '(pavr/. 
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irp6a6eu Oavovpai, KepSos avr iyw \4yw. 
oo~tis yap ip TfoKXolaLv ccs iyus KaKoTs 
Qj, ircos oS' ovxl icarQavu-v KfpSos (pepei ; 
ovtus tfxoiys ToOSe TOV /J.6pOV TU^6?J/ 



FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. 33 

{To Ant.) Briefly declare, then, didst thou knowingly 
Infringe our proclamation ? 

ANTIGONE. 

Spare thy questions ; 
Could aught so public have escaped my knowledge ? 

CREON. 

'Twas daring, to incur the penalty ! 

ANTIGONE. 

Th' injunction did not spring from sovereign Jove, 

Nor Justice, tenant of the blest abodes — 

Should I supremest attributes assign 

To thy behests, or deem a mortal man 

Entitled to reverse the gods' decrees ? 

These are not things of yesterday, but stood 

Before all time, and knowledge, and tradition, — 

I fear them more than any threats of thine ! 

Mortal I know myself, and needed not 

That thou shouldst lesson me ; and if I die 

A little sooner, 'tis to me a gain ! — 

Steep' d as I've been in misery, who would not 

Count death a profit ? — I wail not my fate, 



34 



20*0KAE0Y2 TINA. 

7rap' ovfiev aXyos * aAA' av, el tov e£ e/urjs 
fxrjrpbs davSvr &9airrou eax^"f\v veKvv, 
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(rol 8 J el 8o/ca> vvv fxwpa Spcoaa rvyxdveiv, 
<rx&6v ri fxojpa) jAwpiav d(p\io~Kdv(o. 

XOPOS. 

877A0? to yevvr)ix oifxbv e| cofiov Trarpbs 
T7js iraidSs " sinew 8' ovk eirio'Tarai KaKo7s. 

KPEHN. 

aAA' laQi roi to a/cA^p' ayav (ppovrj/xara 
ir'nrreiv ixaXiarra, Ka\ tov eyKpareararov 
cri$r)pov oirrbv etc irvpbs irepio-Kekrj 
BpavaOevra Kai payevra irAuar av eicrihois. 

0~fXlKpCti X a ^ lv V $' 0l ^ a TOVS Ov/bLOV/LLeVOVS 

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avrrj 8' v/3pi(eiv fiev roV e^TriaraTO, 
v6p.ovs vTrepfiaivovaa robs TrpoKeifievovs ' 
vfipis 8', eirel SeSpaKev, ?)5e Sevrepa, 
tovtois iwavxew, Kai SeSpaKvlav yeAqv. 
% vvv eybi [xev ovk avyp, ai/T?^ 8' avr,p, 
el ravr dvare\ rijSe Keiaerai Kparrj. 
dAA' efr' <z8eA(p7]s, eW' bjxaifxovecrrepas 
tov iravTos rjixiv Zt]vbs epKeiov Kvpe?, 
avT-i] re x V ^vvaijxos ovk aAv^erov 
/j.6pov KaKicrTov ' Kai yap ovv Kelvrjv Xaov 
e-KaiTiwjxai rovhe fiavAevaai racpov. 



FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. #5 

But did my mother's son unhonour'd lie, 
And wanting the last rites, had justly grieved ! 
Granted, that in thy view my deed appears 
Senseless, perchance my judge is not all-wise. 

CHORUS. 

This child of (Edipus doth lack no jot 
Of her stern father's constancy in ills. 

CREON. 

The stubborn' st spirit may sometimes be broken ; 
And native iron, hardened into steel, 
Is soonest fractured. I have known proud necks 
Managed by slender reins ! This lofty style 
But ill befits her state. 'Twas guilt enough 
Once to transgress ; derision and defiance 
But aggravate transgression ! 'Twere to change 
Sexes with her — I girl, she king of Thebes — 
To yield to such presumption ! Not the birth 
She claims from my own sister, not a claim 
Nearer than this, should e'er avail to save 
Her and Ismene from the fate they merit ! 
(For sorely I suspect Ismene shared 



i) 2 



36 SO*OKAEOT2 TINA. 

Kai pip Kahe?T y * eaoo yap eldop apricas 
XvaaSxiav avTyp, ou8' eirr)fio\op (f>pepu>p. 
(pi\e7 5' 6 dvfibs irp6o~6ep rjpricrBai KKo^evs 
t&v /j.r]5ep 6p0a>s iv o~k6t($ TeKPCo/xepoop. 
} aiaco ye \xepToi y&Tap ep KaicoTai tis 
a\ovs eiretra tovto KaWvpeip deArj. 

ANTirONH. 

6e\eis ti (J.e?£op $) KaraKTeivai fx eXwp ; 

KPEHN. 
eyw jxep oi>Sep' tout' ex o3V 'ditaPT e\<i}. 



ANTirONH. 

71 hr\Ta \xe\\eis ; cos e/xol tup o~qop \6yup 

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ovtco Se Kai o~o\ r&fx acpaphdpova e<pv. 
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KareaxoP $1 top avraZeX(pov ep rdcpcc 
TiQe7o~a ; rovrois tovto iraaip apSdpeiP 
Keyon' tip, el fify yXwcraap iyxXeiaoi <p6/3os. 
aAA' 7) Tvpapp\s iroWa t &AA' eiiSai/JLOPe?, 
K&^eaTiv axmj Spav \eyeiv ff a $ov\eTai. 



FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. 37 

In this forbidden sepulture.) But call her ! 
Of late I've marked her troubled looks,, as fear 
Will oft betray what guilt hath darkly planned ! 
(To Ant.) And most I hate, when crime confest as thine, 
Seeks with fair words to justify itself. 

ANTIGONE. 

Wouldst thou have more atonement than my 
death? 

CREON. 

No, truly ! — Having that, I shall have all. 

ANTIGONE. 

Why then delay* st thou, since no word of thine 
Meets my assent, nor ever will ; since, too, 
Mine are no less distasteful to thyself ? 
But whence could I more signal honour earn 
Than thus to have laid my brother in his tomb ? — 
Nay, these, thy parasites, would say as much, 
Did not fear seal their mouths; but Tyranny, 
Above each privilege, has this to boast, 
That it may speak and act without rebuke. 



38 



20*0KAE0T2 TINA. 



KPEHN. 
<rv tovto fiowr) TcDi/Se Kadfxelwu Spas. 

ANTirONH. 

opaxri xofSe ' aol 8' viriKhovai aro/xa. 

KPEriN. 

av 5 5 ovk eiraiSei, roivSe X°°P LS et ' <ppovsls : 

ANTirONH. 

ot/5ej/ yap alaxpov tovs bfJoairXayxvovs o'efieiv. 

KPEHN. 

ovkgvu '6fj.aifj.os x<^ Karavriov dauuv ; 

ANTirONH. 

6fJ.aifj.os e/c fiias re nal Tavrov irarpos. 

KPEHN. 

ttcos §r)T eKeiucp dvacrefiri rijxas X^P LV : 

ANTirONH. 

ov fj.apTvpr)ffei ravd' 6 Kardavcov veKvs. 

KPEHN. 

el rot a<pe rifias e'| 'icrov rqi Suaae&e?. 



ANTirONH. 

yap tj Soi/Aos, dAA' afi(A(pbs &ktro. 



FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. 39 

CREON. 

There 's not a Tlieban here that thinks with thee. 

ANTIGONE. 

All — if they did not shape their tongnes to thine. 

CREON. 

Doth it not shame thee, thns to stand alone ? 

ANTIGONE. 

There is no shame in burying one's brother. 

CREON. 

Was not, who fell opposed, thy brother too ? 

ANTIGONE. 

He was, by either parent equally. 

CREON. 

Why then dishonour him, in honouring this ? 

ANTIGONE. 

Neither would he have blamed me for the act, 

CREON. 

Thou puttfst him on a par with one condemned. 

ANTIGONE. 

No slave was this that perish'd, but my brother. 



40 20*OKAEOT5 TINA. 

KPEHN. 

iropdan> ye rrjuBe yyv ' 6 ft 1 avricrras virep. 

ANTirONH. 

0/j.ws o y A'i8r)s tovs v6/j.ovs tovtovs irode?. 

KPEHN. 
a\?C oi»x ^ XP 1 )°' ros T V KaK V Aa^etv tcros. 

ANTirONH. 
ris olSep el Karcadeu evdyq rdSe ; 

KPEHN. 

OVTOl TTOd' OVxQpbs, OuS' OTCtV OOLVIJ, (p'lKOS. 

ANTirONH. 

ovtoi avvexOeiv, aAAa av/uLcpiXelv ecpvv. 

KPEnN. 

/farw vvv eKQova, el (piXiireov, cp'iAei 

Kfiuovs ' i/xov 8e {ui'tos ovk &p£ei yvur). 



FRAGMENT FROM SOPHOCLES. 41 

CREON. 

His country's enemy ; — th' other, its guardian. 

ANTIGONE, 

But the last funeral rites pertain to all. 

CREON. 

Not that the good and bad should fare alike. 

ANTIGONE. 

I "Ve done what 's grateful to the gods below. 

CREON. 

An enemy, though dead, is still no friend. 

ANTIGONE. 

My nature tends to love, and not to hate. 

CREON. 

Down then to hell ! — love there ; but while I live 
No woman bears the sway. 



FRIENDSHIP. 

" And what is Friendship but a name, 

A charm that lulls to sleep, 
A shade that follows wealth and fame, 

But leaves the wretch to weep ? " 

Goldsmith. 

Injurious Bard, the strain forego, 

If such the notes you sing ; 
Friendship to me is ' all below/ 

A sacred, precious thing ! 



Friendship in man the soul can warm, 
Its high descent to prove ; 

To woman lends her brightest charm, 
And takes the name of Love. 



AMERICAN BONDS. 

" It lias been observed, that those who most loudly clamour for 
liberty, do not most liberally grant it." Dr. Johnson. 

American Bonds are waste paper, I trow. 

Till American credit grows better ; 
And the trustiest Yankee securities now 

Are the bonds which the " Nigger " enfetter. 

With the "Stars and the Stripes" of republican pride 

He has little connexion, good lack ! 
Other stars he invokes to deliver his hide 

From the stripes which belabour his back. 



44 



AMERICAN BONDS. 



Thus Liberty's boast, in the Yankee's repute, 
Is to load a black brother with chains ; 

Equality gives him the lot of a brute, 
And Fraternity jests at his pains. 

Since Republics, when viewed in unprejudiced lights, 
Take more liberties, far, than they give, 

Here 's hurrah for the limited, well-balanced rights, 
Under which we old ( ' Britishers " live ! 



Note. — More than twenty years ago, Sydney Smith wrote of the " great 
disgrace and danger of America — the existence of slavery, which, if not 
timely corrected, will one day entail (and ought to entail) a bloody servile 
war upon the Americans, which will separate America into Slave States and 
States disclaiming Slavery, and which remains at present as the foulest blot 
in the moral character of that people.' ' What would he have said to their 
taking free men of colour out of foreign ships, and putting them in prison 
during the ship's stay in port? 

'Apxw, ot€ Trdvres &u- 
dpcanoL Sedtacri <r', Sxr- 

7rep &vdpa Tvpavvov. 

AusroriiANF.s. 



- 



HORACE. 

Book I. 38. 

Persicos odi, puer, apparatus ; 
Displicent nexse philyra corona? : 
Mitte sectari, Eosa quo locorum 
Sera moretur. 

Simplici myrto nihil adlabores 
Sedulus, euro : neque te ministnun 
Dedecet myrtus, neque me sub arcta, 
Vite bibentem. 

Boy, I detest the Persian treats, 

In vain for me their garlands bloom, 

Search not where Roses lingering smile, 
Ere yet they meet their wintry doom ! 

To Paphian myrtles stint thy care, 
They '11 best befit this flowing wine, 

They '11 best befit the Bard, reclined 
At ease beneath his arching vine. 




FROM THE CHINESE. 



THE FRIEND'S COMPLAINT.* 

Now scarce is heard the zephyr's sigh, 

To breathe along the narrow vale ; 
Now sudden bursts the storm on high, 

In mingled rush of rain and hail ; — 
While adverse fortune louring frown' d, 

Than ours no tie could closer be j 
But lo ! when ease and joy were found, 

Spurn' d was I, ingrate, spurn' d by thee ! 



* The originals of this, and the following piece, were compiled by Confucius 
above 400 years before Christ, from something still more ancient. 



THE FRIEND S COMPLAINT. 47 

Now scarce is felt the fanning air 

Along the valley's sloping side ; 
Now winds arise, and lightnings glare, 

Pours the fell storm its dreadful tide ; — 
While fears and troubles closely prest, 

By thee my love was gladly sought, 
But once again with quiet blest, 

Thou view'st me as a thing of nought ! 

The faithless calm shall shift again, 

Another gale the bleak hill rend, 
And every blade shall wither then, 

And every tree before it bend ; — 
Then shalt thou wail thy lonesome lot, 

Then vainly seek the injured man, 
Whose friendship thou hadst all forgot, 

And only learn' d his faults to scan. 



Note. — Above is a fac-simile of thn private seal of Keying, a relation of 
the Emperor, and late Imperial Commissioner. 



THE STOLEN BRIDE. 

The nest yon winged artist builds, 
The robber bird shall tear away ; 

So yields her hopes tlo.' affianced maid, 
Some wealthy lord's reluctant prey. 

The fluttering bird prepares a home, 
In which the spoiler soon shall dwell ; 

Forth goes the weeping bride, constrain' d, 
A hundred cars the triumph swell. 



Mourn for the tiny architect, 

A stronger bird hath ta'en its nest ; 

Mourn for the hapless, stolen bride, 

How vain the pomp to soothe her breast ! 

* This has reference to the success of a rich and powerful suitor, who carries 
off the bride already contracted to a humbler rival. The " robber bird " 
(cuckoo?) is constantly alluded to as the emblem of unjust appropriation. 




FERTILE FIELDS. 



FROM THE CHINESE. 



Though man's superfluous labour ceased to till 
The fertile glebe, ne'er would its bounties end ; 

Though rusting lay th' abandoned ploughshare, still 
O'er the fair land would waving harvests bend. 

Less happy soils may pine in years of dearth ; 

Late though we sow, we early reap the field ; 
A thousand roods of richly teeming earth 

In weighty crops ten thousand measures yield. 

Why haunt we, then, the sylvan's mossy shrine? 

Why ask what fortune shall our toils attend ? 
See the sweet spring with surer presage shine, 

And balmy airs, and lengthening days, descend ! 




IN CAVERNAM UBI CAMOENS FERTUR OPUS 
EGREGIUM COMPOSUISSE. 

Hie, in remotis Sol ubi rupibus 
Frondes per altas mollius incidit, 
Fervebat in pulchram Camcenam 
Ingeninm Camoentis ardens : 

Signum et poetre marmore lucido 
Spirabat olim, carminibus sacrum, 
Parvumque, qnod vivens amavit, 
Effigie decorabnt antrum. 






IN CAVEENAM CAMOENTIS. 51 

Sed jam vetustas, aut manus impia 
Prostravit, elieu ! Triste silentium 
Regnare nunc solum videtur 
Per scopulos, virides et umbras ! 

At fama nobis restat, at inclytum 
Restat poetas nomen, at ingeni 
Stat Carmen exemplum perenne, 
iErea nee monumenta qurerit. 

Sic usque virtus vincit, ad ultimos 
Perducta fines temporis, exitus 
Ridens sepulchrorumque inane, 
Marmoris ac celerem ruinam ! 




EPIGRAMS. 



FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 

Mvv 'AaKXrjiridSrjs 6 (piXapyvpos d8ev iv o'iKCf, 
Kal ri iroitls, (p7)cr\v, (piArare jxv Trap' ijxoi ; 

'H8i> 8' 6 (j.vs ytAacras, Mrjdkv, <p(\e, (prjcr], <po$7]9ri$, 
OvxL rpocprjs irapa. voi xPWOfxev, a\\a ixovrjs. 



IMITATED. 

Penurious Elwes in his mansion spied 

A mouse; "What dost thou here?" enraged, 

he cried : 
"Pardon, kind sir/' the creature answered meek, 
"'Tis lodging merely, and not food I seek/' 



EPIGKAMS. 53 



IX A VARUM. 

TlXovrov {lev ttAovtovvtos exets, tyvxvv 8e TrevrjTos, 
7 H Tots K\i]pov6{xoLS irXovaie, trot 5e irevrjs. 

Di\T.tis est argentum, animus tibi pauperis, tu 
Hseredi dives, pauper et usque tibi ! 



Les richesses d'un riche, avec Tame d'un gueux, 
Abondant a tes fils, a toi parcinionieux ! 



A beggar's soul hast thou, with all thy pelf, 
Rich to thine heirs, but miser to thyself ! 



AOTKIAAIOT. 



Tas rpixas, di NiKuXXa, rives fiairreiv <re Xeyovaiv, 
*As ah {leXaivoTaras e| ayopas iirpiw. 



" Nicylla dyes her hair." Mistaken thought ! 
The colour's natural, though the locks were bought. 



54 EPIGRAMS. 



FROM THE LATIN. 

Pulicibus morsus, extincto lampade, stultus 
Exclamat — " Nunc me cernere desinitis." 

Bitten by fleas, tlie fool put out his light ; 
"Now," quoth he, "friends, I'm hidden from your 

sight r 



MILTON'S THREE WIVES. 



" The first wife left him in disgust, and was brought back only by 
terror. The second, indeed, seems to have been more a favourite, but 
her life was short. The third, as Philips relates, oppressed his children 
in his life-time, and cheated them at his death." 

Johnson's Lives. 



Infelix vates, uxor tibi prima rebellis, 
Altera flos moriens, tertia falsa fait ; 

Carmine tarn dulci scivit cui scribere Ainorem, 
Invitus (mirum) lam pad e fulsit Amor ! 



EPIG&AMS. 55 



WEAL AND WOE. 



To Cockney gluttons great 's the difference whether 
At home they stuff, or hence to Paris go ; 

For, as they tarry here, or travel thither, 
The flesh of calves to them is v:eal or iceaii. 



PREVIOUS TO THE BILL FOR LEGALISING ANATOMY, 

WHEN A "SUBJECT*' FOR DISSECTION COST £10. 

Time was, ere surgeons learned their charnel trade, 
One Sovereign against many Subjects weigh' d ; 
But science to such fearful change gives birth, 
Que subject now ten sovereigns is worth.* 

• This, and the preceding, were printed in the John Butt newspaper in 1S2'.». 



56 EPIGSAMS. 



BRITISH LEGISLATION. 

When Rome her laws from ancient Greece invited, 
Twelve tables held the code Ten men * indited ; 
But British law through such meanders roams, 
Ten thousand lawyers quote as many tomes. 

* The Decemviri. 



ARGUMENTS, 

WITH SHORT CRITICAL NOTICES, 



THE EXTANT GREEK TRAGEDIES. 



NOTE. 



In going through the thirty-three Greek Tragedies, the 
plot or plan of each was sketched down after reading it, 
with such remarks as presented themselves at the time ; 
and as the whole is a succinct compendium of what has 
formed the constant theme of Poetry, Painting, and Sculp- 
ture, it is appended here, being little more than a sort of 
index to the subjects of all the plays. 




-ESCHYLUS. 



jESCHYLUS. 



PROMETHEUS BOUND. 



It is scarcely to be wondered at that Sophocles 
should have won the dramatic prize from iEschylus. 
There is a poverty of plot and invention in the latter, 
which places him below Sophocles in most of the 
constituents of dramatic merit, The striking: and 
distinguishing characteristics of his plays are, the 
terrific nature of the majority of the subjects, and 
the grandiose manner of treating them. The 
"Prometheus bound" is not altogether unlike those 
u Mysteries " which appeared on the early European 
stage, filled with religious and allegorical characters. 
From the diatribes of Prometheus against Jupiter 
we may conjecture that Milton, so familiar with flic 
Greek plays, conceived his character of Satan, as 



62 .ESCHYLUS. 

well as the language he attributes to the arch-fiend, 
described by Yoltaire as 

" Le diable toujours lieurlaiit contre les cieux." 

Prometheus is brought on by Vulcan, who, 
with the aid of Strength and Porce, two strange 
allegorical personages, chains him to a rock, talking 
over his work in a very technical manner. A chorus 
of Sea-nymphs now condoles with the prisoner ; after 
which " Old Ocean " enters, and gives Prometheus 
some good advice, which he will not hear. Next 
appears Io on her travels in the shape of a cow, under 
the jealous persecution of Juno, and tormented by 
an olarpos, a poetic and tragic gad-fly — Prometheus 
and Io tell their respective histories, and the Chorus, 
with reference to the fate of the latter, delivers an 
opinion on the policy of equal alliances. Finally, we 
have Hermes, who enters with a very decided message 
from Jupiter. After some violent language has passed 
between him and Prometheus, the latter meets with 
the reward of his inflexible obstinacy in a sweeping 
onslaught of thunder and lightning. 



THE PERSIANS. 63 



THE PERSIANS. 

The play opens with, a Chorus of Persian elders, 
who express their anxiety to obtain intelligence of 
their king Xerxes and Ins army. To them enters 
Atossa, the mother of Xerxes and widow of Darius, 
and informs them of her ill-omened dream, in which 
she saw two maidens representing Persia and Greece 
yoked to the car of Xerxes ; the first, glorying in her 
harness, but the latter intractable, and at length 
hurling the king from his car. She next day sees 
an eagle flying for shelter to the altar of Phoebus 
(the Sun, worshipped by the Persians) and torn by a 
pursuing falcon — as in Shakspeare, 

" An eagle, towering in his pride of place, 
Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed." 

Atossa then inquires of the Chorus concerning the 
Greeks, and the replies which she receives only 
increase her fears. A messenger comes in and relates 
the defeat mid disasters of the Persians at the battle of 



64 .ESCHYLUS. 

Salamis, where JEschylus liiinself had fought in person. 
The Chorus invokes the shade of Darius, to whom 
Atossa recounts the misfortunes of his son. They 
lament together, and the shade of Darius, having 
advised Atossa to go forth and meet her son Xerxes 
on his return, departs. The last scene commences 
with the appearance of Xerxes, and terminates with 
a lamentation of so doleful and noisy a description, 
that one is almost tempted to think iEschylus intended 
to make the Athenians laugh at the expense of their 
defeated enemies. — It is a curious account, from a 
contemporary and eye-witness, of the ancient Persians, 
the disciples of Zoroaster, whose descendants, the 
modern Parsees, still worship Zeratusht (as they call 
him) and are the most intelligent and commercial of 
the oriental subjects of Great Britain. One of them, 
at Bomba}^, received some years ago the honour of 
knighthood from Her Majesty. 



THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. 65 



THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES. 

After the death of (Edipus, his two sons, Eteocles 
and Polynices, dispute the sovereignty of Thebes, and 
Polynices is expelled. He returns from Argos at the 
head of an army of Iris allies to besiege the city ; and 
seven celebrated chiefs, of whom Polynices is one, are 
opposed to the seven gates of the city. In the first 
scene Eteocles is seen exhorting the Thebans to a 
stout resistance, and a messenger, or spy, comes to 
report of the enemy. 

The play proceeds with the lamentations of the 
Chorus of Theban virgins, who bewail the dangers of 
the city ; and to them enters Eteocles, rebuking them 
for spreading the contagion of fear among the 
besieged. At length the messenger, or spy, returns, 
and describes in lengthened detail the seven chiefs 
opposed to the city. This contains a very curious 
account of the devices and mottoes carried by the 
chiefs on their shields — precisely resembling the 



66 jEschylus. 

heraldry of jousts and tournaments in feudal times. 
Polynices adopts as his device the figure of Justice 
leading a warrior by the hand, with the inscription, 
"I will restore him to his country and his home." 
Eteocles, after appointing a Theban leader to confront 
each of the enemy, resolves to oppose his brother in 
person, and the result is, that they both fall by each 
other's hands, but the city is saved. The Chorus, 
with the two sisters of the deceased, Antigone and 
Ismene, lament over the bodies, and Antigone 
declares her resolution to bury her brother Polynices 
with funeral rites, despite of the proliibition of Creon, 
who had condemned the corpse to be exposed. It is 
from this point that Sophocles commences Iris tragedy 
of Antigone. 



AGAMEMNON. 67 



AGAMEMNON. 

This play, which is the longest of iEschylus, and 
consists of sixteen hundred lines, is the first of the 
Trilogy, or sequence of three connected tragedies, with 
which the Athenians were sometimes entertained by 
their dramatic poets. It opens with the soliloquy of 
the sentinel, who is set to watch for the signal of 
Troy's overthrow, — a lighted torch, displayed by way 
of telegraph from one height to another. On the 
appearance of this he hastens to inform Clytsemnestra. 
The Chorus of Argive elders then sings and puts 
the audience in possession of the main subject ; and 
Clytsemnestra coming in informs the Chorus, to their 
great joy, of Troy's capture, describing very poetically, 
and with geographical correctness, the progress of the 
signal-lights from mountain-top to mountain-top, 
all the way from Troy to Argos. The herald enters 
and relates the capture of the city of Troy, and the 
quick approach of Agamemnon without his brother 



F 2 



68 jEschylus. 

Menelaus, who had been separated in a storm. 
Agamemnon at length arrives with Cassandra, his 
captive, and is received with a great show of joy and 
reverence by Clytsemnestra, who spreads carpets for 
him to walk on. Cassandra prophesies to the Chorns 
the death of Agamemnon, as well as her own, by the 
hands of Clytsemnestra, together with the subsequent 
vengeance to be taken by Orestes. The Chorus at 
length hears the cries of Agamemnon, as he is being 
murdered on coming out of his bath, and a debate 
ensues as to what is to be done. The bodies of the 
king and of Cassandra are brought on the stage, and 
Clytsemnestra attempts to justify the act, which the 
Chorus execrates. JEgysthus comes in and threatens 
the Chorus with death for their boldness; but they 
continue nevertheless to reproach and defy him, and 
so ends the tragedy. 



THE CHOEPHOILE. 69 



THE CH0EPH0EJ3. 

As the sequel of the preceding play, Orestes having 
reached manhood comes, accompanied by his friend 
Pylades, and with the command of Apollo, to revenge 
the death of his father, Agamemnon. He finds his 
sister, Electra, with the Chorus of virgins " bearing 
libations" (whence the name Choephorse) to the 
tomb, upon which a mutual recognition takes place. 
They join in the offerings and supplications to the 
gods, and to the shade of the departed ; and a plan is 
formed for the death of the guilty queen and her 
paramour. Orestes then appears at the palace-gate, 
disguised as a messenger, bearing important intelli- 
gence of his own death, and is handsomely received 
by Clytsemnestra without being known. The aged 
nurse of Orestes, named Gilissa, is sent with a 
message to entice ^Egysthus to the house ; and the 
garrulous laments of the old woman, on the supposed 
death of her former charge, are extremely anile 



70 ^ISCHYLUS. 

and natural. iEgysthus falls into the snare, and 
is killed ; and then follows a tremendous scene in 
the style peculiar to iEschylus, between the guilty 
Clytsemnestra and Orestes, who at length drags her 
out and kills her. Such a subject as this, while it 
proves the weight attached by the Greeks to fate or 
destiny, could scarcely be endured on our modern 
re. 



THE FURIES. 71 



THE FURIES. 

This third play of the Trilogy continues the history 
of Orestes. The Pythian priestess first appears before 
the temple of Apollo, and then is seen Orestes infested 
by the Chorus of Furies on account of the death of his 
mother, and applying for protection to Apollo, by 
whose instigation the deed had been committed. The 
shade of Clytsemnestra enters and urges the Furies to 
persecute her son. Apollo bids them begone ; they 
assert their rights to their prey, and the scene then 
changes to the temple of Minerva at Athens, whither 
the Furies still pursue their victim. Here we have a 
complete violation of the unity of place, and a proof 
that these unities (in all their rigidness) have been 
most superfluously attributed to the ancient stage. 

The decision of the cause is referred to Minerva, 
and a court being called, the case proceeds, Apollo 
himself appearing as both advocate and witness for 
the prisoner. After some rather odd arguments from 



72 



tESCHYLTTS. 



the god and goddess, the \j/ij(f)OL or lots are thrown 
and prove to be equal, upon which the Furies are in 
a great fury; but certain promises from Minerva 
appease them, and they end by vaticinating every 
species of good to the city of Athens ; which must 
have secured the applause of an Athenian audience at 
the close of the performance. 



THE SUPPLIANTS. 73 



THE SUPPLIANTS. 

Daxaus, brother to .Egyptus, king of iEgypt, has 
fifty daughters, and the latter fifty sons, whom he is 
anxious to contract to the fifty daughters of Danaus ; 
but the brother, thinking the union unlawful, 
flies with Iris daughters (who form the Chorus) to 
Argos as " Suppliants." The play opens with their 
arrival on the Argive shore, bearing branches bound 
with fillets of white wool, which they present at the 
shrine of the gods. At length appears the king 
of Argos, who, being solicited for protection, replies 
that he must apply to the people for their consent, 
as it is likely to involve them in war. The Chorus 
of Danaides in the mean time protest that they will 
hang themselves in their girdles unless their prayer 
be granted; but the father soon returns with the 
intelligence that protection is obtained. 

Their terror is presently excited by the appearance 
of the Egyptian ships in pursuit of them. That fche 



74 ^SCHYLTJS. 

ancient inhabitants of Egypt were black seems proved 
by the occurrence of tins passage : fjLtXayxfaoLs 
yvioiai XevK&v £k 77€7rAco ixcltmv (733), " black limbs 
conspicuous from white apparel." The father, 
Danaus, goes off for assistance, and the daughters 
remain near the sanctuary ; but the Egyptian herald 
soon appears with a train of sailors, and orders the 
ladies off very unceremoniously; while they are 
struggling, the Argive king enters with Ovtos tl 
7rot€t9; " Hollo ! what are you about?" The herald 
threatens war, but the king tells him that they shall 
not find the Argives " Beer-di-inkers " (ex Kpid&v 
jueflu), winch seems to have been the Egyptian pota- 
tion (naturally) from the abundance of grain, the 
staple production of the country. The play ends 
with the rejoicings of the Danaides at their safety. 




SOPHOCLES. 



LA 



SOPHOCLES. 



(EDIPUS TYRANNUS. 

(Edipus being king of Thebes, a severe pestilence 
afflicts the people, and the tragedy opens with Creon 
reporting, as the answer of the oracle, that no remis- 
sion of the plague conld be hoped for, until the 
murderer of the late king Laius should have been 
banished. Tiresias, the blind prophet, being called 
in, confirms the report of the oracle, and leads to the 
suspicion that (Edipus himself has, unconsciously, 
been the murderer of his father and the husband of 
his own mother. The play proceeds gradually, by 
the incontestable evidence brought forward, to remove 
all doubts upon the subject. (Edipus, in consequence, 
being seized with a fit of horror and despair, puts out 
his own vyv.*, and Jocasta, his mother, hangs herself. 
The Chorus consists of Theban elders. 



78 



SOPHOCLES. 



OEDIPUS AT COLONOS. 



(Edipus retires in his blind condition to Colonos 
near Athens, where there is a temple and grove 
dedicated to the Furies. He is led by his daughter 
Antigone, and Ismene his other daughter joins them, 
bringing intelligence of the treachery of his sons 
Eteocles and Polynices, and the approach of Creon, to 
seize on their party and carry them prisoners to 
Thebes. A number of Athenian elders, attracted to 
the spot, constitute the Chorus, and Theseus, king of 
Athens, being called thither, takes compassion on 
CEdipus, and refuses to deliver him or Ins daughters 
to Creon. The play ends by (Edipus meeting Iris 
death in a supernatural manner near the spot, 
according to the prediction of the oracle. Whenever 
an opportunity occurs of nattering the Athenian 
audience, such as making them appear the protectors 
or the arbitrators of the other states of Greece, it may 
be observed that the tragedians naturally turn the 
same to account. 



ANTIGONE. 79 



ANTIGONE. 



After the death of Eteocles and Polynices, who 
fall by each other's hands, as we have it in iEschylus' 
" Seven against Thebes/' Creon, their successor, gives 
the first a formal burial, but interdicts to his 
brother Polynices the performance of the funeral rites 
by any one under penalty of death, on the ground of 
his having fought against his country. Antigone, the 
sister of Polynices, however, performs the sacred 
ceremonies by stealth over the body of her brother, and 
being detected, in a scene of which a translation has 
been attempted in the present volume,* is condemned 
(according to the terms of Creon' s prohibition) to be 
buried alive; Creon' s son, Hsemon, who had been 
betrothed to Antigone, upon this kills himself; and 
his mother Eurydice, when she hears of Ins death, puts 
an end to her life also. The Chorus consists of 
Theban elders. 

* Page 80. 



80 



SOPHOCLES. 



TRACHINIANS. 



Hercules being victor in the country of the 
Trachinians, sends home to Deianira by Lichas his 
female captives, among whom is Iole, of whom he 
had been enamoured. Deianira, having her jealousy 
roused, sends to Hercules by their son Hyllus the 
tunic of the centaur Nessus, who had perfidiously 
told her, after being shot by Hercules with the fatal 
arrow, that it would restore to her the love of the 
latter whenever that should fail. Hercules uncon- 
sciously and unsuspectingly puts on the tunic while 
he is sacrificing, and the poison with which it was 
imbued throws liim into such tortures, that he hurls 
Lichas to a distance into the sea, and is afterwards 
brought forward on the stage, where he hears of the 
self-murder of Deianira, and being in dreadful agony 
prevails on his son Hyllus to consume him on a 
funeral pile. The Chorus consists of Traehinian 
virgins, whence the name; but it might, perhaps, 
have been more aptly styled the Deatli of Hercules. 



AJAX LORAEITJS. 81 



AJAX LORARIUS. 

Ajax, in liis contest with Ulysses, being deprived 
of the armour of Achilles, runs mad, and in his 
frenzy attacks a flock of sheep. This is so like the 
exploit of Don Quixote, that it may be supposed 
Cervantes possibly derived the hint from the antique 
original, and the subject is better suited to the Spanish 
satire than the Greek tragedy. Ajax slays some of 
the flock, and takes an old ram prisoner, under the 
notion that it is his enemy Ulysses. This ram he 
occasionally flogs in gratification of his resentment, 
(whence " Flagellator," the title of the play,) and a 
confabulation ensues between Minerva and Ulysses 
on the outside of the tent. The Chorus consists of 
Salaminian sailors, who meet Tecmessa,"* Ajax's lady, 
and bewail the slaughter of the sheep. Ajax comes 
out to them from his tent, and being gradually 
restored to a sense of his condition, takes an oppor- 



■ Muvit Ajacem, Telamone natom, 
Forma captivee dominant Tecmesse.— Hon. 



82 



SOPHOCLES. 



tunity to slay himself. His brother Teucer succeeds 
in performing the funeral rites over the body, 
notwithstanding the prohibition of the Atridse ; but 
these at length yield to the intercession of Ulysses, in 
favour of his deceased enemy. The great feature of 
this play is the strong light in which it places the 
superiority of wisdom over mere brute force, personi- 
fied as these are in Ulysses and Ajax. 



PHILOCTETES. 83 



PHILOCTETES. 

Ulysses, and Xeoptolemus the son of Acliilles, 
having been sent from the Grecian army, then before 
Troy, to fetch from Lemnos the arrows of Hercules, 
in possession of Philoctetes, land at that island, and 
open the tragedy, the sailors of Neoptolemus forming 
the Chorus. Ulysses, knowin<? the deserved hostility 
of Philoctetes to kiniself, who had caused his exile in 
Lemnos, leaves Xeoptolemus alone to prevail on him 
to deliver up the arms and accompany them to Troy 
on their return. A long dialogue follows, in winch 
Philoctetes relates his sufferings, and after once 
delivering up his arms to Xeoptolemus entreats liiin 
to restore them, when he has heard the object of his 
visit to Lemnos with Ulysses. The latter then 
re-appears on the scene to prevent the restoration of 
the arms, and Philoctetes is with difficulty prevented 
from transfixing him with an arrow. The shade of 



.; 2 



84 



SOPHOCLES. 



Hercules at length appears, and informs Philoctetes 
that he must go to Troy, where he will be cured of 
the wound in his foot, and become instrumental to the 
success of the siege. 



ELECTRA.. 85 



ELECTRA. 

The subject of this play is nearly the same as that 
of the Choephorse of JEschylus, namely, the revenge of 
Orestes on the murderers of his father. The scene 
opens at Argos, where Orestes is introduced to his 
paternal city by the Tutor who has had charge of his 
youth, and who opens the subject of the tragedy. They 
retire to mature their plans for the revenge of 
Agamemnon's death, and Electra then enters with the 
Chorus, consisting of Argive women, and laments her 
fate. Her sister Chrysothemis afterwards comes in 
and informs Electra of what her guilty mother and 
iEgisthus intend against her, upon which, Electra 
prevents Chrysothemis from carrying to their father's 
tomb some libations with which she had been charged 
by the impious Clytsemnestra. The last-mentioned 
appears on the stage, and has a wordy contest with 
Electra, after which the tutor of Orestes enters with 
the pretended news of the death of Orestes in a 



SO SOPHOCLES. 

chariot race. Electra tries to spirit up her sister to 
assist her in slaying iEgisthus, but in vain ; and then 
comes Orestes himself in disguise, bearing his own 
pretended ashes in an urn. He at length discovers 
himself to his sister, in a beautiful scene, and the play 
concludes by their first slaying Clytsemnestra, and 
afterwards iEgisthus, on Ins return home. 







EURIPIDES. 



EURIPIDES. 



MEDEA. 



The nurse of Medea's children opens the tragedy, 
and a dialogue ensues between her and the Ylatbayaiyos, 
or tutor, on the grief and anger of their mistress, 
from which they, knowing her disposition, bode no 
good. She in the meanwhile rages within, and the 
nurse going in to console her finishes the first act. 
Medea, then coming forth, bewails her own and her 
-ex's hardships, and calls on the Chorus to assist her 
in revenging herself on Jason. Creon enters, and 
commands her to quit the territory, upon which she, 
with artful dissimulation, obtains from him leave to 
remain another day, and on his departure meditates 
her plan of mischief. The Chorus closes the act by 
condemning the perfidy of Jason, and pitying the lot 
of Medea. A dispute then ensues between Jason and 



90 EURIPIDES. 

Medea, in which she heaps him with reproaches and 
fairly drives him away. The Chorus moralises ; then 
ensues a colloquy between iEgeus, king of Athens, 
(who chances to arrive at Corinth) and Medea, who 
obtains from him the promise of an asylum in his 
kingdom. Animated by this, she proceeds to throw 
Jason off his guard by pretending to relent, and then 
prepares the way for her revenge. The Chorus 
earnestly dissuades her from the murder of her 
children. Medea in the fourth act completely lulls 
Jason into security by pretending to be reconciled to 
her fate, and prepares in the meanwhile some charmed 
and poisoned gifts, which she sends by her children 
to Glauce, Jason's intended spouse, and her father 
Creon. The tutor, who conducted the children 
thither, at length returns and reports their favourable 
reception, as well as the remitted exile of her children. 
Medea then has a terrible struggle between her 
revenge and her maternal tenderness, winch is 
beautifully drawn by the poet. In the fifth net, 
a messenger relates, to Medea's savage satisfaction, 
the death of Creon and lus daughter ; and she then 
proceeds to the dreadful tragedy of slaying her 
children. Jason hurries to be revenged for the deatli 



MEDEA. 91 

of Creon and Glauce, and learns on his arrival the 
fate of his offspring. Medea, mounted on a dragon- 
car, defies and leaves hiin. Tins is, perhaps, the most 
striking and powerful of all the ancient plays that 
have reached us, and combines, in the highest degree, 
the tragic attributes of terror and pathos. 



92 



KURIPIDES. 



HECUBA. 



The shade of Polydoras irpokoyL^L, or unfolds the 
argument of the tragedy, a feature which peculiarly 
marks all the plays of Euripides. Hecuba having seen 
and heard the shade of her son in a dream, seeks an 
interpretation from the Chorus of Trojan captives, who 
inform her that her daughter, Polyxena, is already 
condemned to be sacrificed by the Greeks. There 
follows a touching scene between the mother and 
daughter, in which the latter bewails, not her own 
destiny, but her mother's, in being thus bereaved. 
The second act commences with Ulysses coming for 
Polyxena; Hecuba uses all her entreaties to save her 
child, and at last tells Polyxena to fall at the feet of 
Ulysses, which however she refuses, preferring death. 
Hecuba then desires to die with her, in which she is 
not indulged, and they are parted in great anguish. 
The Chorus lament their captivity and its consequences. 
In the third act, Tallin bins, the herald of Agamemnon 



HECTJBA. 93 

and the Greeks, relates to Hecuba, with great feeling, 
the circumstances of her daughter's death. Then 
follow the sorrows of Hecuba, and the Chorus, as 
usual, closes the act. One of the female captives being 
despatched to the sea-shore, for water to wash the 
corpse of Polyxena, there finds the body of Polydorus, 
son of Hecuba and Priam, who had been sent by his 
parents to the charge of Polymnestor, king of Thrace, 
and murdered by the tyrant for the sake of his wealth. 
Hecuba entreats of Agamemnon, that he will at least 
leave her at liberty to take her own revenge on the 
murderer ; and the Chorus bewails these miseries. 
Polymnestor, in the last act, is enticed to the tents of 
the captives, under pretence of intelligence concerning 
hidden treasures, and thus falls a prey to his 
cupidity ; his two sons are put to death before him, 
and himself blinded by the Trojan captives. Aga- 
memnon, brought to the spot, applauds the act of 
Hecuba, and, after her triumph over the defeated 
murderer, closes the tragedy by ordering Polymnestor 
to be removed from his sight and sent into exile. 



EURIPIDES. 



ORESTES. 

Electra introduces the subject of the play, and 
Orestes appears seized with occasional insanity in 
consequence of the matricidal act which he has just 
perpetrated. Tyndarus, the father of Clytsemnestra, 
being Iris accuser, the people have determined that 
Orestes and his sister Electra shall be stoned. 
Menelaus arrives with Helen, and is entreated by 
his nephew to aid him, but he rather sides with 
Tyndarus, and the fate of Orestes appears inevitable. 
Pylades then appears, and advises his friend to slay 
Helen in order to punish Menelaus j she, however, is 
snatched from her fate by the gods ; but the two 
friends seize her daughter Hermione and are about 
to kill her, when Menelaus appears before the palace, 
which he besieges. The inmates threaten to set it 
on fire, unless he pleads their cause with the people. 
Apollo finally appears, and commands Menelaus to 



ORESTES. 95 

give Hermiorie to her cousin Orestes in marriage, 
which is accordingly done ; and Orestes, being puri- 
fied from his crime, remains at Argos. 



96 EURIPIDES. 



THE PHOENICIANS. 

This play takes its name from the Chorus of 
Phoenician virgins, captives devoted to the service 
of Apollo's temple. The subject is much the same 
as that of the " Seven against Thebes/'' by iEsclrylus . 
Polynices, exiled at Argos, marries the daughter of 
King Adrastus, and persuades Ins father-in-law to 
send a large army to recover for lrhn his native city, 
Thebes, Jocasta, their mother, contrives a meeting 
between Eteocles and Polynices, with the hopes of 
their being reconciled ; but, failing in the attempt, 
the latter leaves the city to join Ins army. Tiresias 
prophesies success to the besieged, provided that 
Menoeceus, son of Creon, be sacrificed. The father 
objects to tins, but the son, under pretence of 
voluntary exile, goes and puts an end to his life to 
save his country. Eteocles and Polynices then agree 
to decide the war by single combat, and fall bv each 
others hands. The Ajgives retire, and Creon lakes 



THE PHOENICIANS. 97 

possession of the throne, prohibiting the rites of 
sepnltnre to the body of Polvnices. The play con- 
cludes with a somewhat superfluous dialogue between 
Creon, Antigone, and CEdipus, the last being con- 
demned to exile in his blind state. 



98 EURIPIDES. 



HIPPOLYTUS. 



Yentjs, incensed at the contempt which Hippolytus 
evinced towards herself, and at his desertion to Diana 
her antagonist, inspires Phsedra, his mother-in-law, 
with a passion for him, which, being communicated 
to Hippolytus by the old nurse, merely excites his 
resentment ; and Phsedra, between rage and shame, 
hangs herself, leaving a letter in which she falsely 
accuses him to Theseus. The latter on his return 
finding this, condemns Hippolytus to exile, at the 
same time invoking Neptune to destroy Iris son. 
Hippolytus going forth to exile in his chariot, 
Neptune sends a horned sea-monster winch frightens 
the horses, and Hippolytus being thrown, becomes 
entangled in the reins and mortally injured. He is 
borne in this condition to his father, and Ins 
patroness Diana appearing, explains the real facts, 
and leaves Theseus in great grief at the loss of his 



HIPPOLTTUS. 99 

son, In the Greek Anthology we have the following 
epigram on the subject of this play : 

^wcppoawr] Kai "Epcos Karevavriov bXkT\\oicnv 

'EXBSptss tyvxas &\e<rav ajxcporspoi. 
$ai8pr)v fxkv Kreiveu irvpoeis irddos 'l-mroXvTOio, 

'I-n-iroAvTOV 8' ayj/7] irzcpve aao<ppocrvur]. 

PARAPHRASED. 

Fair Venus and pure Dian join'd in strife 
Pernicious, and each sacrificed a life ; 
Phsedra, the prey of Love and wounded pride, 
While chaste Hippolytus for virtue died. 



it 2 



100 EURIPIDES. 



ALCBSTIS. 

Apollo having obtained as a concession from the 
Fates that some person should die for Admetus, 
his wife Alcestis offers herself as the sacrifice, 
neither of the parents of Aclmetus being willing to 
suffer. Hence arises an unseemly dispute with the 
latter. After the death of Alcestis, and the per- 
formance of the funeral rites, Hercules, coming to 
the residence of Aclmetus, is well received, and 
learns at length from a dependant all that had 
happened. In return for his hospitable treatment 
Hercules proceeds unknown to the sepulchre 
of Admetus, and rescues her from death: then, 
concealing her with a veil, he brings Alcestis to her 
husband, giving out that he had Avon her as a prize 
at the games, and offering her to Admetus. He, 
however, remains faithful to the memory of his wife, 
and, when all attempts have failed, the covp de 
theatre is completed by the veil being removed and 
Alcestis restored to her husband. 



AND110MACHE. 101 



ANDROMACHE. 

Neoptolemus (or Pyrrhus), son of Achilles, having 
received Andromache as his captive at the taking 
of Troy, has a son by her, named Molossus. He 
then takes to wife Hermione, daughter of Menelaus 
by Helen. Hermione, being jealons of Andromache, 
engages her father to assist her in destroying her 
rival during the absence of Neoptolemus at the 
Delphian Oracle. Menelaus seizes young Molossus, 
and threatens to kill him, unless Andromache will 
come forth from the shrine of Thetis, where she had 
found an asylum ; and, when the latter obeys, he is 
about to kill both, when old Peleus appears and 
rescues them. Menelaus goes back to Sparta, 
leaving his daughter in fear of the return of her 
husband. Orestes, to whom Hermione had been 
formerly promised, appears and carries her off, and 
then contrives the death of Neoptolemus at Delphi, 



102 EURIPIDES. 

whence the corpse is brought, to the great grief 
of his grandfather, Pelens. Thetis, however, appears, 
and consoling him for his loss, promises him immor- 
tality in the Fortunate Islands. 






SUPPLIANTS. 103 



SUPPLIANTS. 

The subject of this tragedy is altogether different 
from that of the same name by iEschylus. Creon, 
king of Thebes, having on the defeat of the Argive 
forces denied burial to their dead, Adrastus proceeds 
to Eleusina, a city of Attica, accompanied by the 
mothers, widows, and daughters of the deceased, to 
obtain succour from Theseus. These " Suppliants " 
(who form the Chorus) hurry to the altar of Ceres, 
and depositing their supplicatory branches, implore 
the rites of sepulture for the dead. iEthra, the 
mother of Theseus, being then sacrificing for an 
abundant harvest, takes pity on the Suppliants, and 
exhorts her son to succour them. Theseus, there- 
fore, having first sent an unsuccessful embassy to 
Creon, succeeds in an attack on Thebes, and bringing 
back the corpses of the " Seven Chiefs " to Eleusina, 
gives them burial. There Evadne, the widow of 
Capaneus, one of the chief's, throws herself on his 



104 EURIPIDES. 

burning pile, like a Hindoo, and is consumed. 
Theseus finally sends home Adrastus to Argos, 
having first made him swear that the Argives should 
never bear arms against Athens. Here we have 
an egregious violation of the unity of time ; there is 
a long interval to be allowed, first, for an embassy, 
and then for a siege, not to mention other matters. 






IPHIGENEIA IN AULIS. 105 



IPHIGENEIA IN AULIS. 

• The Greeks, on their way to the Trojan war, were 
detained by contrary winds at Aulis, a port in the 
middle of the narrow strait which divides Euboea 
from the main land; and where we may suppose 
(as it is so much out of the direct course), that, in 
the imperfect state of navigation, the small vessels 
of the Greeks would prefer the smooth water of the 
strait to the open sea on the eastward. Calchas, the 
priest and prophet, at length delares that unless 
Iphigeneia, the daughter of Agamemnon, be sacrificed 
to Diana, no fair wind awaits them. Agamemnon 
is accordingly persuaded to send to Argos for his 
daughter, under pretence of her marrying Achilles; 
and Clytsemnestra, her mother, deceived by the 
story, brings her to Aulis. The play opens with 
the grief of Agamemnon at the step he had taken, 
and an attempt to recal his first letter. On dis- 
covering the fraud Clytajmncstra upbraids her 



106 EURIPIDES. 

husband, and engages the assistance of Achilles 
to prevent the sacrifice. There is a very affecting 
scene where Iphigeneia endeavours, though in vain, 
to bend her father from his purpose ; but at length 
she generously consents to die for Greece. When 
about to be sacrificed, Diana conveys her away, and 
leaves a deer in her place. Racine, in his fyhigenie 
en Aulide, found the latter incident rather unsuited 
to the French stage, and therefore, instead of the 
deer, substituted Eriphyle, a jealous rival of Iphigenie, 
who forfeits the sympathy of the audience by her 
conduct, and is brought to such a pass that she 
dies by her own hands. 



IPHIGENE1A IN TAURIS. 107 



IPHIGENEIA IN TAUMS. 



Orestes, commanded by the oracle of Apollo, pro- 
ceeds to Tauris with. Pjdades to carry off Diana's 
image, said to have fallen from heaven, and worshipped 
by the inhabitants. On their arrival they are seized 
and carried to the Temple, to be sacrificed to the 
goddess, according to the cnstom in the case of all 
strangers. Iphigeneia, sister to Orestes, being 
priestess, questions the strangers, and on finding 
that they come from Greece, arranges that one only 
should be sacrificed, and the other be the bearer of a 
letter from herself to Argos. A very fine scene 
follows, in which the brother and sister recognise 
each other, and arrange to escape to Greece, carrying 
off with them the statue of Diana. In the mean- 
while comes Thoas, the king of the region, to the 
Temple about the sacrifice. Ipliigeneia persuades 
him that the captives must be taken to the shore to 
be purified previous to the offering; and in this 



108 EURIPIDES. 

manner the flight is contrived and effected. When 
Thoas, at length undeceived by the arrival of a 
message, prepares to give chase to the fugitives, he 
is prevented by the appearance of Minerva, who 
commands him to forbear. 



RHESUS. 109 



RHESUS. 

The argument of this play is almost entirely taken 
from the Tenth Book of the Iliad, or the night 
adventure of Ulysses and Diomed. When the Trojans 
had driven the Greeks even to their shipping, Rhesus, 
king of Thrace, and son of the River-god Strymon 
and the Muse Terpsichore, arrives in the evening as 
an ally to Troy. Dolon is sent by Hector as a spy 
to the Greek camp, and Ulysses and Diomed at the 
same time proceed on a similar expedition from the 
Greeks, These two, with the assistance of Minerva, 
finding the camp of Rhesus, apart from the Trojans, 
unguarded, slay the king, wound his charioteer, and 
carry off his horses and chariot. The Muse Terpsi- 
chore bears off her son's body ; and Hector, who at 
first threatens vengeance on the night guard (con- 
stituting the Chorus), for their negligence, is at 
length satisfied that it is the work of Minerva. 



110 EURIPIDES. 



THE TROJAN CAPTIVES. 

As in many other instances, this tragedy is named 
from the Chorus. It opens with Neptune and 
Minerva, the latter of whom declares herself now the 
enemy of the Greeks, as she had lately been their 
friend, in consequence of the violence done to her 
temple by Ajax, who tore Cassandra from the asylum 
it afforded. She engages Neptune to vex the Greeks 
with all his storms on their voyage home. Hecuba 
then appears with the Chorus, lamenting the fate of 
Troy, and their own captivity. Cassandra is intro- 
duced, vaticinating all the evils that are to befal 
Agamemnon and his house in consequence of her 
being allotted to him — evils in comparison with which 
those of the Trojans were light. Andromache then 
appears in a captive state, with her son Astyanax. To 
them enters the herald Talthybius with the dreadful 
tidings of the fate decreed by the Greeks to Astyanax, 
and a very touching scene with Andromache is the 



THE TROJAN CAPTIVES. Ill 

consequence. There ensues a curious dialogue between 
Menelaus, Helen, and Hecuba, wherein Helen stands 
a sort of trial, and though Menelaus declares himself 
convinced by Hecuba of her extreme guilt and 
unworthiness, the result showed that his former love 
for her prevailed. The dead body of the young 
Astyanax is brought in on the shield of his father 
Hector, and Hecuba and the Trojan Captives, after a 
beautiful apostrophe from the former, prepare it for 
the tomb. The tragedy concludes with the Greeks 
applying their torches to the devoted city, and hurry- 
ing off Hecuba and the Chorus to their ships. "The 
conclusion (says Schlegel) where the captive women, 
allotted as slaves, leave the burning and down-falhng 
Troy behind them as they turn towards the ships, is 
grand indeed. Where there is so little ceremony, as 
here in the case of Astyanax (the speech of Talthybius 
preventing even the slightest attempt at rescuing 
him *), the spectator soon resigns himself to the issue. 
In this respect Euripides frequently commits himself. 
In the uninterrupted demands on our compassion in 
this piece the pathos is not reserved and heightened 



* Rescue seems out of the question, when all his friends are captives, and 
those captives women. 



112 EURIPIDES. 

as it ought to be. For instance, the lamentation of 
Andromache over her living son is much more affect- 
ing than that of Hecuba over the dead Astyanax. It 
is true the effect of the latter was supported by the 
sight of the little corpse on the shield of Hector. 
Perhaps Euripides calculated much on the excitement 
for the eyes ; therefore Helen appears in contrast with 
the captive females, splendidly arrayed : Andromache 
in a chariot laden with booty." The truth seems 
to be that the feeling which this play is calculated 
to excite would be almost as unsuited to an European 
audience as that of a capital execution. The violation, 
too, of poetical justice, in the respective fates of 
Helen and Andromache, is very shocking; though 
they may be true to history, or at least mythology. 



THE BACCHANALS. 113 



THE BACCHANALS. 

Bacchus,, after his apotheosis, being denied his 
honours by Pentheus, ruler of Thebes, instigates 
Agave, mother of Pentheus, and the other sisters of 
Semele, his own mother, to madness, and causes them 
to tear Pentheus to pieces on Mount Cithseron. 
The Chorus of Msenades sing a tremendous incanta- 
tion against the devoted Pentheus, breaking out into 
such rapid dactylics as these, 

' A7TTe Kepavuiov aldoira XafxnaBa, 
Suyn^Ae-ye av/x<p\eye Sco/mara TlevOecos. (594.) 

" Imagine (says Schlegel) the Chorus with flying 
hair and garments, tambourines, symbols, &c, in their 
hands, as the Bacchse are represented on bas-reliefs, 
storming into the orchestra and executing their 
inspired dance amidst the din of music, which in 
other cases was quite unusual, as the choral odes 
were performed with no other accompaniment than a 
flute, and with a solemn step." Schlegel gives this 
play a rank among the tragedies of Euripides to which 
some might think it was hardly entitled . 



114 EURIPIDES. 



CYCLOPS. 

Ulysses, on his voyage home from Troy, is 
wrecked on the coast of Sicily, near iEtna, the 
residence of Polyphemus and the other Cyclops. 
He there finds Silenus and Ins retinue of Satyrs, 
enslaved by the giant, and in the absence of the latter 
bargains with them for sheep and milk, in return for 
wine, which they greedily drink and joke upon. It 
almost reminds one of Caliban and Trinculo in the 
"Tempest." Polyphemus suddenly appears, and 
Silenus in a fright declares that Ulysses and his friend 
had taken the things by force. These last, being 
doomed by the monster to be eaten, Ulysses contrives 
to make Polyphemus drunk and to blind lum, as 
is related in the Odyssey. — "The Cyclop is a 
satyric drama. The distinguislung mark was a 
Chorus composed of Satyrs. The immediate occasion 
was given by the festivals of Bacchus,* at which the 

* These were the origin of the whole Tragic Drama, as the derivation 
■ •I' the word Tragedy sufficiently implies. The present play, however, is 

more of a farce. 



CYCLOPS. 115 

Satyr's mask was a common disguise. The compo- 
sition of Demigods with Demibeasts (Semideusqne 
caper, Semicaperque dens,) formed an amnsing con- 
trast. The chief value of this piece is its rarity, being 
the only one extant of its kind." 



i 2 



] L6 EURIPIDES. 



THE HERACLIIhE. 

The aged Iolaus, formerly the companion of 
Hercules, having become the guardian of his children, 
takes them as supplicants for protection to the altnr 
of Jupiter, at Marathon, in the Athenian territory. 
Copreus, the herald or messenger of Eurystheus, their 
persecutor, then appears, and summons Iolaus with 
his charge away ; upon which they appeal for assist- 
ance to the Athenian citizens, who form the Chorus. 
Demophon, the king of Athens, enters, and after 
having heard both sides, generously determines to 
refuse the demand of Eurystheus, and afford an asylum 
to the children of Hercules. Copreus upon tlus 
quits the scene, denouncing war and vengeance, which 
is retorted in a spirited manner. The oracles occasion 
a difficulty, in declaring that the daughter of some 
noble house must be sacrificed, in order to secure 
success to the Athenian anus; but Macaria, one of 



THE HERACLIDiE. 117 

the children of Hercules, offers herself as the victim 
and is accepted. A messenger announces that Ulysses, 
son of Hercules, is coming to the succour of the 
Heraclidse. Old Iolaus is seized with a preternatural 
desire, notwithstanding his age and infirmities, to go 
forth and join hhn against their common enemy 
Eurystheus; and leaving his charge with Alcmene, he 
repairs to the forces of Hyllus, where, being restored 
in a miraculous manner to temporary youth and 
strength, he defeats Eurystheus and makes Mm a 
captive. The play concludes by Eurystheus being 
brought on the scene, where a dialogue of mutual 
recrimination ensues between him and Alcmene. 
This play, like the " Suppliants " (a name to which 
it is equally entitled), was a compliment to the 
Athenians, and as the former reminded Argos of its 
obligations to Athens, so did this Sparta, the country 
where the descendants of Hercules settled. "The 
Heraclida? (says Schlegel) is a very poor play. 
Of the sacrifice of Macaria we hear no more. Demo- 
phon, the Athenian king, does not return to the stage 
any more than the old man Iolaus, so wonderfully 
restored to youth. Hyllus does not appear. Thus, 
at the end, there remains none but Alcmene, who 



118 EURIPIDES. 

wrangles stoutly with Eurystheus. Such inexorably 
vengeful old women Euripides depicts with special 
relish. Twice he has made this use of Hecuba ; once 
in conflict with Helen, and again with Polymnestor." 






HELENA. 119 



HELENA. 

This play supposes that Helen was not at Troy 
during the war, but in Eg}*pt with king Proteus, 
(having been conveyed thither by Juno to defeat 
Yenus) while a cloud or vision deceived Paris in 
her shape. After the death of Proteus, Iris son 
Theoclymenus attempts to force Helen to become his 
wife, but she resists, and seeks an asylum at the tomb 
of Proteus. At this juncture, Menelaus, on his way 
from the burning of Troy, is thrown on the coast, and 
meets Helen at the tomb. They recognise each other, 
and, in order to effect their escape, obtain the secret 
assistance of Theonoe, sister of Theoclynienus. The 
king is persuaded to let them have a vessel to perform 
the last honours to Menelaus, of whose pretended 
death at sea the stranger affects to bring intelligence. 
Leave i< obtained, on condition of Helen marrying the 
king afterwards, which she promises. They proceed 
to Ma and thus ex-ape. Tlieoelvmenus is going to 



120 EURIPIDES. 

put his sister to death for deceiving him, when the 
Dioscuri (or Castor and Pollux) appear and prevent 
him. Tins is such a complete change of history, or 
even mythology, as to prove that the Greek dramatists 
had the fullest license to bend any subject to then- 
own purposes. 



ION. 121 



ION. 

Creusa, daughter of Erectheus, King of Athens, 
having a son by Apollo, exposes him near the 
Acropolis, and Mercury taking the infant Ion to 
Delphi, he is brought up by the Pythian priestess to 
serve in the temple. In the meanwhile Xanthus 
espouses Creusa, and, as they prove childless, they 
proceed to Delphi to consult the oracle. Apollo, in 
his reply, gives Ion to Xanthus as a son. Creusa upon 
this is jealous, and contrives a scheme for the destruc- 
tion of Ion, ignorant that he is her own offspring. 
Apollo prevents the success of this, and at length 
informs her of the truth, first by circumstantial proof, 
and then by sending Minerva, but enjoins that it 
should be kept secret from Xanthus. "Ion (says 
Schlegel) is also one of the most favourite pieces, on 
account of the traits of innocence and priestly 
sanctity in the boy whose name it bears. It is true, 
in the complication of the plot, there is no lack of 



122 EURIPIDES. 

improbabilities, make- shifts, and repetitions, and the 
unravelling of the plot by means of a lie, in winch 
gods and men combine against Xanthus, can hardly 
be satisfactory to onr feelings /" 

Of Mr. Justice Talfourd's fine tragedy of Ion, the 
author himself observes, " The title of this drama is 
borrowed from the tragedy of Euripides, which gave 
the first hint of the situation in winch its hero is 
introduced — that of a foundling youth educated in a 
temple, and assisting in its services ; w but, as he adds, 
there is otherwise no resemblance between them. 



HERCULES RAVING. 123 



HERCULES RAVING. 



Hercules being absent in the infernal shades to 
bring back Theseus, and drag Cerberus to light, 
Lycus, the tyrant of Thebes (which kingdom he had 
usurped from Creon), takes occasion to condemn the 
father, wife, and children of Hercules to death. The 
tragedy opens with Amphitryon, Megara, and the 
children at the altar* of Jupiter Soter, complaining, 
together with the Chorus of Theban elders, of the 
cruelty of Lycus. The latter enters, and finally 
commands them to withdraw and prepare themselves 
in funeral apparel for death. Hercules unexpectedly 
returns, and learning the facts puts Lycus to death. 
Iris then appears, being sent by Juno with Ava-aa, 
(Fury or Madness) to deprive Hercules of reason, who 
thereupon in his phrensy destroys his wife and children. 
On his return to reason, Theseus appears, and 
dissuades him from the desperate resolution of putting 
an end to himself. 



" This refuge at the Altar, serins to have been a favourite Tragic position. 
We have it in many others of the plays. 



124 EUEIFIDES. 



ELECTRA. 

Electea had been given (according to this plot) 
by Clytsemnestra to a countryman of Argos as his 
wife. He, however, knowing who she is, treats her 
wit]] distant respect. Orestes, on attaining manhood, 
returns secretly and recognises Iris sister in her present 
condition. They consult as to revenging their father's 
death ; and iEgisthus is at length slain in the act of 
sacrificing. Clytsemnestra is then enticed to the 
cottage of the countryman under pretext of Electra's 
confinement, and there put to death. On the com- 
pletion of this murder, a sudden remorse seizes 
Orestes andElectra; but the Dioscuri* appear, and tell 
Orestes to proceed to the temple of Minerva at 
Athens, where he will be absolved from the guilt of 
parricide, incurred, as it had been, by Apollo's 
command. Electra is desired to marry Py lades, who 

* Castor and Pollux. 



ELECTRA. 125 

in this play appears as a KaxfiovTrpocruiTov, or in dumb 
show. Schlegel is very severe (and justly so) upon 
this tragedy, and calls it the worst play of Euripides, 
which it certainly is. 



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